The Heart Stealer
by Tirnel
Summary: New Chapters! notice it is plural...the tale continues.
1. Chapter I: Tension

The Heart Stealer

PG-13

For smoking, drinking, and some violence.

Summary: first chapter Aragorn under guise of Thorongil is looking to destroy Umbar. Denethor makes accusations against him that he may not be able to answer as Thorongil and Gandalf try to figure out a way to change the Steward's mind.

I do not own any characters or places that are Tolkien's. I just took them out to play for a bit. If I made any money from this story, I would not be posting it here :D.

Hello readers. Sorry for the absence. I have been in a bit of a dry spell, I know I said I wouldn't be long in posting, but stuff happened, computer problems, etc. Coming up with a good title has been trying, I changed it at least 4 times. In part, it was because the story kept changing. I do not know where this is going, so bear with me.

Chapter I: Tension

_~2975 TA Gondor~_

"Always you are the bringer of ill news, Mithrandir," The Steward of Gondor gazed with displeasure upon the wizard in grey standing before him. The wizard had a habit it seemed of bringing only warnings and tidings of despair. But the Steward knew that it was best to heed the advice of a wizard. Thorongil showed unwavering trust in Mithrandir and took everything he said to heart. His son Denethor, however, did not seem to trust the wizard at all. Denethor thought that they should put their trust on Saruman the White, who had taken up in the tower of Orthanc instead of wandering to and fro into strange and unknown places like the Grey One. Thorongil argued many points concerning Umbar, but Denethor turned aside his words as easily as he would a blade. Ecthelion had to agree with his son on the point that the men of Umbar had not attacked in years and there were no signs that he had seen that they would be anytime soon. If there were some kind of proof, he would heed the words of the wizard and the stranger.

Ecthelion turned his eyes upon Thorongil, a man he had come to love as a son. "We have not any ships to spare for an invasion upon their home front and we cannot just attack them without provocation," reasoned Denethor.

"You would wait until they come knocking on your front gates and lay waste to your fields and crops?" answered Thorongil.

"I am afraid I must agree with Denethor. If some manner of proof of these threats were brought before me, then we may come to an arrangement, but for now, I say we drop the matter." With a wave of his hand, he dismissed Thorongil and the wizard along with the other members of the council.

Thorongil strode out of the throne room, his frustration mounting with every step. Often it seemed that Denethor opposed any plans of strategy or ideas Thorongil devised whenever Gandalf was concerned. Not because they were not good ideas or strategies, in fact they were often very good, even if they seemed mad at times. However in this case he had had a foresight predicting Gondor's fall if the black fleets were allowed to stay afloat. Thorongil had already begun designs on how to eliminate the threat and if all went well, Gondor had more than enough ships; taking also into account the ships from Dol Amroth. He shared his vision with Gandalf alone and they discussed it in lengths before deciding that Gandalf should tell the Steward of Gondor of the coming danger. If Aragorn had revealed such information, there would have been an askance of how he knew this. It would raise some uncomfortable questions and he did not wish to be forced to lie to protect his secrets.

He needed a drink, so he strode down to the _King's Fountain, _the best tavern in the white city, sat in secluded corner of the room and ordered the house brew. He would have preferred a glass of elven wine, Dorwinion would have been perfect, but elven wine in Gondor was not to be found, never mind a bottle of Dorwinion. Finding a bottle of Dorwinion this far south was like finding a hobbit in a fifty foot tree. He chuckled to himself as he could actually think of one particular hobbit who had been found stuck up a tree. _Perhaps there _is_ a chance of finding some Dorwinion in Gondor after all_, he mused.

"So much for that adventure," said Gandalf as he sat down across from the disgruntled human. The wizard reached into the folds of his cloak and pulled out his pipe and bag of pipeweed.

Aragorn leaned forward and rested his arms on the table, cupping his pint of brew. "I think I could take up your 'smelly habits' as Erestor would say with all this stress."

"It's about time," merrily Gandalf replied and from his robes Gandalf produced another pipe. He stuffed it and handed it over the Aragorn, "though I doubt your foster father would approve."

"With all due respect, he can write a formal complaint, sign it, and then stick it in his ear," he said cynically around the pipe sticking out of his mouth as he lit it. "Besides, what he does not know in these regards will not kill him."

"Oh, he shall find out."

"Yes, but for the time being, I am here and he is thousands of miles away and-"

"And you are being very contemptuous today."

A heavy sigh escaped Aragorn's lips. He took a swig of ale before answering, "I do not really mean any of it. It's just…it has been a trying day. How can we get proof from a vision?"

"Investigate, spy, gather information that would prove their treachery."

"They would never allow it!" the words sprung from Aragorn's lips as a quiet hiss.

"Would not allow you, but _I,_ however," smiled the wizard, "am not bound by the same restrictions you are." He lowered his voice even more so Aragorn could just hear him, "Unless, of course, you were to claim something that belongs to you," Gandalf's eyes gleamed in the dim light.

"I have played with the idea, but each time something inside me says, 'not now' and I have to agree. Perhaps some unforeseen event has yet to happen before it will feel right but we do not have that kind of time. And yet, what can we do? You went before them with the warning and they did not heed your advice. What makes you think they will listen if and when you manage to gather proof?"

Gandalf bowed his head and stared at the coals glowing from his pipe, "I do not know."

They spent the next hour in deep thought. Conversing quietly one to another once in awhile with ideas. Neither had decided upon a plan when the time came for Aragorn to attend to his duties as Thorongil. He returned the borrowed pipe. Gandalf insisted he hold on to it, but Aragorn would not accept.

oOo

Denethor walked silently down the darkened hall. Lamps had been lit but there were still many dark places in which one might lurk. He placed his hand on his sword. "I want to know why." Startled, though he did not show it aside drawing his sword, Denethor spun around to face the voice of his rival. Thorongil unnervingly slid from the shadows as quietly as an elf. It bothered Denethor that he had walked right by him and did not even see him. Thorongil eyed the blade with mild dullness. "Did you think me to be a bogeyman?" He asked with a small smile.

Denethor frowned and slid his sword back in its sheathe and turned back down the hall with derision followed by the one he wished to escape.

"Peace, Denethor, I meant no offense."

"What do you want Thorongil?" he growled.

"I want to know your reasons for going against Mithrandir's counsel. You do not like him, I get that. You do not like me, I understand that too. But this is a serious threat to Gondor. You would let your feelings towards us interfere with Gondor's safety?"

"All I want is proof."

"You may want proof but that is not your only reason." They halted their steps, but Denethor made no answer. "You may keep them to yourself if you must, but the strength that is in Umbar is great and would bring peril upon us. If Sauron were to go to open war against us, then the fiefs of the south would be our undoing. The Corsairs have ever been his ally. Because it has been some time since they have sailed against Gondor, does not mean all is safe. It makes them all the more deadly. It gives them time to gather strength to build." Denethor stared at the floor. "What about Finduilas?" If he would put aside Gondor's safety for hatred, would he do so with his love for Finduilas? Aragorn knew he fancied her.

"Yes, what about Finduilas?" Denethor's eyes snapped up from the floor and burned into Thorongil's. His words were fraught with venom, "You seek to steal her heart from me as you have done with my father's?"

"What are- are you insinuating I have attempted to steal her from you? That I have stolen your father's love? I have never once sought to supplant you in your father's heart. What would I succeed by doing so?"

"You know your own mind. And with this wizard you would have the throne _and_ the woman I love all with my father's blessing," he spat.

"Just who do you think I am?"

Denethor held his tongue. He had his suspicions who this man was, but he had no certain proof. He had looked into Mithrandir and with what he could see; he knew that this message of the Corsairs had not come from his own divinations and devices. Thorongil immediately was sided with him in a way that made Denethor think that Thorongil himself had discovered the threat, but how? It confirmed for him that this man was indeed of Númenorean descent, though not from Gondor. No not from Gondor…he had come to Gondor from the Rohirrim, but he was not of them either. He had to have come from the north. Perhaps he was of their northern brethren. It would then appear that not all of their kin in the north had disappeared like many thought. Like himself, he appeared to have the gift of foresight and that is the proof he wanted. He wanted this stranger to admit that he was of Númenor. More than that, Denethor wanted him to reveal what he else suspected: that he was Isildur's heir. If he was Isildur's heir, what other reason would he be in Minas Tirith other than claiming the throne? There had been no king in Gondor for nine hundred and twenty-five years when Eӓrnur had answered the challenge of the Witch-king and was lost. It was then that Mardil became the first Ruling Steward. If the king were to return it would be expected of himself to surrender the rule of Gondor. It would be a sore blow if it were to be his rival who was to claim the throne. Even if his claim were true, Denethor could not see himself serving under such an upstart. Undoubtedly, Ecthelion would hand over the rod to his favorite captain faster than one could blink. He could almost prove the man's race, but not his ancestry, but he would settle for just the admission of race, for now, as it would bring him one step closer. But Thorongil had brought up a just as sore a subject. He would save the topic of his father's love for another time. Denethor wanted to know why Thorongil also sought the hand of the woman he sought to marry. He had seen them together on many occasions whenever she came to the city. Always it was with Thorongil she would prefer to go riding with, laugh with, even dance with.

Thorongil gazed in thought at Ecthelion's son. _Is it possible that Denethor has in some way discovered who I am? Did my mask slip without my knowledge? He would have said something if he had. Undoubtedly he has his suspicions. Could that be the proof he is wanting? He also thinks that I have stolen his father's love and am seeking the hand of Finduilas?_ _What utter nonsense. However, Denethor truly believes it._ "I seek the hand of no one in Gondor. Finduilas and I are just friends. There is no romance between us. You can ask her yourself if you so not believe me. If your father has looked more favorably upon me them yourself, it was no design of mine. I am here to serve your father and protect Gondor from her enemies. As soon as the threat of Umbar is gone, I will depart and return to the north where I came from and there I will stay until I am needed once more. Fair night to you, son of Ecthelion," after a stiff salute, Thorongil was gone.

TBC

(Hopefully soon)


	2. Chapter II: My Fair Lady

Due to stress and extra time you get more chapters.

Chapter II: My Fair Lady

Finduilas waited by the stables of the city. Thorongil had promised a picnic lunch away from the oppressive walls of stone, but he was late. Thorongil was not one to be late. She began to wonder if something happened to him, which was silly because Thorongil was fully capable of handling himself. Still, she had to wonder.

"Perhaps he changed his mind, my lady, and forgot to send word," her handmaid waiting with her suggested. Perhaps that was so, but she waited and looked on.

A soldier entered the stables and bowed. "I am Berglos. Thorongil sends his regards, but he cannot make it today. He has asked me to accompany you in his stead, if it be pleasing to you."

"No, that will not be necessary," she replied sadly, "I no longer wish to go today." She curtsied and the soldier saluted as she walked back towards the lodgings of her family, a fine house with a courtyard on the sixth circle. Her handmaiden followed along behind in silence. Her mistress was deep in thought. Here encased in stone, far away from the sea with the gulls crying her mistress ever seemed to wilt as a flower without sun. Yet Finduilas had found a ray of sun on her last visit to the city seven years ago- the same year Denethor also began to call on her whenever he could. She always perked up and seemed more herself when Thorongil was around, as if she caught a glimpse of the sea and wafts of the breeze off the quays. Denethor on the other hand was as cold as the stone in comparison to the warmth of Thorongil. And though he had no lineage to their knowledge, the handmaiden hoped her mistress would choose this stranger over the future steward. Of course the Steward's son would be the smarter match, Finduilas would have to live here in the city but she feared her mistress would wither and die and her mistress and The Eagle if the Star and made such a lovely couple. After all, he doted on her so with a dress now and then and the occasional piece of jewelry. Thorongil had such good taste in clothing. And Adrahil of Dol Amroth was not against the match. He also was not against the match with Denethor either, she frowned.

Like the handmaiden of Finduilas many thought she and Thorongil were in love but this was not so. She may have once desired it upon their first meeting, for he reminded her of the great sea kings from the old tales her people tell. He reminded her of the sea and when she was with him, she forgot about the stone walls that towered above her and of the shadow in the east. Thorongil read her thoughts and felt great sorrow for her and saw her fate. She would marry the Son of Ecthelion and wither away in the city ere long. But she had a kind heart and had found a companion to whom he could confide (to an extent) with when Gandalf was not around. He desired to remove the shadow the hung over her, but alas, he could not. All he could do was lighten it for a time. Thus, he sent her gifts, spoke with her often, and took her on outings outside the city.

Finduilas' handmaiden was dreaming of caring for children begotten by her mistress and Thorongil, such handsome children they would be. The wedding would be seaside or even on a fine proud ship. Her dreaming ceased and her frown was renewed when she saw that Denethor was waiting in the courtyard. Finduilas and Denethor greeted one another and he kissed her hand.

"I have come to call upon the fair lady who resides here," he smiled as he straightened.

"Had it not been for a change in plans I'm afraid you would have been waiting a long while," she offered a brief smile of her own.

"Plans, my lady?" He held her hand still and he stroked it a little. Finduilas withdrew her hand and went to sit on a bench in the yard.

"I was to go riding and have a picnic lunch with Thorongil, but he could not go."

"How fortunate," Denethor mused to himself.

"Beg pardon?"

"How unfortunate," he cleared his throat, "If you would still care to go, I could take you. I am free until the evening."

Finduilas thought it over. Denethor loved her she saw- in his own way, of course. He certainly was no romantic like Thorongil. He was trying hard today and it was not very flattering. However, her heart had moved towards him. She could be very happy with Denethor and besides, she stood up from the bench, she had nothing else to do at the moment, "I would be delighted." She took his arm and dismissed her handmaiden for she did not need her (after she had been sent for a basket with lunch inside it). As Denethor led her back to the stables with basket in hand he they chatted about this and that.

They rode down the levels of the city, stopping only twice. Once, so Denethor could buy a bottle of wine and then to let some citizens pass by. Once out of the city, she spurred her horse into a gallop for a short distance. They came to a lone tree in a field of grass on a small hill seven miles from the gates. She consented to let Denethor unpack the basket while she gazed out at the plain. She saw Osgiliath to the northeast. The road to it was not far from where they sat. The river glittered in the afternoon sun; the great river that lead to the sea near her home. She looked at it wistfully until Denethor handed her a glass of wine and offered her to sit beside him under the tree. "To Gondor!" he raised his glass in a toast. She raised her glass and drank then picked up a leg of chicken. She ate in silence deep in thought and remembering a poem Thorongil had recited to her about the sea until Denethor asked her if anything was wrong. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "It's nothing. I was just thinking."

"About Thorongil?" he grunted.

"About a poem he recited to me about the sea."

He threw a bone across the plain, "I am sick of hearing about Thorongil. All day long it is 'Thorongil this' and 'Thorongil that'."

"I'm sorry, I did not mean-"

"For once I would like to go a day without without hearing his name, but while we are on the _subject: _I have heard rumors that he has asked you to marry him. Have you accepted? Are you going to marry that nameless dog?"

She laughed merrily, "Marry Thorongil! My Denethor, Thorongil and I are just friends. We always have been. There never was anything between us, believe me." She put her hand on his arm, "You mustn't believe rumors."

"He was telling the truth then," he muttered.

She smiled kindly at him, "he does that."

"Yet he cannot tell us anything about his past. Not even his name."

"He has his reasons."

"What has he told you?"

"Well," she looked away across the plain but her eyes drifted towards the city, "I am not sure if I can tell you Denethor." He snorted. "He told me in confidence I'm sure and you must respect that."

He crossed his arms, "I don't trust him and I won't until I know about him."

"He has not told me much, mind you," she sighed and conceded. "I will tell you what he has told me, but he must never know I told you." Denethor nodded. "All I know is that his father died when he was young and he was raised in the north in his uncle's* house who has two sons that he loves as brothers. They nicknamed him Estel and taught him everything he knows."

"His father's brother?"

"I do not know. I know he has given his heart to a fair maiden whom he thinks of everyday and the rest is simply what I know of his character, which is honest and true. Is that enough for you to trust him?"

"We shall see."

"Is your father going to fight the Corsairs?"

"They are not a threat, lady."

"Are you sure? While I have not seen anything, a shadow has been growing in heart of late. I fear some great evil arising in the south."

oOo

This new information did not deny or confirm anything Denethor knew about Thorongil, but he did feel like he owed him an apology regarding Finduilas, which was a blow to his pride. He was also considering what Finduilas had told him as he paced back and forth in chamber. She too feared the Corsairs uprising. Is it possible Thorongil put her to it? No, he did not think so. The fear in her eyes looked too real. If they started now, they could build some ships and Adrahil may be willing to allow the use of his ships. And they could always…he swore and strode from his room.

Thorongil was sparring with new soldiers. Many lacked instruction and he had been ordered there to teach them for his skill with the blade was well known. They were just finishing when Denethor entered the training grounds. Thorongil sheathed his sword before getting a drink of water. He was aware of the approach of Denethor behind him as he splashed water on his face. "What did you have in mind?" asked Denethor.

"Regarding?"

"The Corsairs," when Thorongil looked at him questioningly Denethor explained himself, "Finduilas fears it too and do not want to see her hurt so I am going to go along with it. I pray you are wrong about them."

"As do I."

"I also offer my apologies regarding-"

Thorongil waved his hand, "There is no need. I know the rumors and it is easy for others to gossip about matters they do not know." He clasped Denethor's shoulders, "Let's discuss this over a pint. I know a good place."

"Two of your best, Falma!" cried Thorongil once they entered the _King's Fountain_. He then led Denethor to his usual table.

"This doesn't change anything between us Thorongil." He stated matter-of-factly as he seated himself across from Thorongil.

"That does not mean we cannot enjoy a drink while conversing." He took out the pipe Gandalf had leant to him and tapped it on the table leg before filling it with some pipeweed, also from Gandalf.

"I did not know you smoked," remarked Denethor masking his surprise.

"I didn't until a few weeks ago."

After a few sips of his drink and some puffs on his pipe, Thorongil engaged Denethor with his plan. They would not need many ships. Just a few would do. Build them and paint them in the fashion of the Corsairs then proceed down the Anduin and come upon them in the night and go aboard the enemy ships and set them ablaze. There would be little to no losses if all went well. Once all the ships are on fire, they would sail back to Gondor as quick as they could.

As they finished discussing details and the last if their drinks, Denethor said, "I shall speak with my father about it. However he has already made up his mind regarding the matter."

The year faded and a new year began. Ecthelion would not allow any strife with the Corsairs until there was proof. However, he had consented to the building of the ships. Much to the chagrin of her handmaiden, Finduilas married Denethor in the spring of 2976. Thorongil gave Finduilas a deep blue mantle with silver stars. To Denethor he gave a cloak lined with fur. Two more years passed. Thorongil had not seen or heard from Gandalf since that day in the tavern.

~Greetings! Well, chapter 2 is done, finally.

*Elrond's brother Elros was the first king of Númenor of whom Aragorn is descended.


	3. Chapter III: My Brethren

Chapter III: My Brethren

_~2978 TA Eriador~_

Dolenbor walked into a small village in view of the Blue Mountains and the BaranduinRiver. It was too small to have a proper inn but one could be allowed to sleep in the stables of the alehouse if one had the right coin. He walked through the muddy street; if street it could be called. The houses and buildings were placed higgledy-piggledy and there were no proper roads, just a bunch of dirt and mud when it rained, which it had. There he saw legends milling about with pickaxes and shovels. Dwarves with long beards thrust into their belts. They ran mines in the Blue Mountains, though there are less of them now since Thorin reclaimed the LonelyMountain and his treasure far from the Blue Mountains and beyond Mirkwood, though he died in battle, Dain now rules as King under the Mountain. As marvelous as it was to see them, he had a mission. But where to begin? He had nowhere near enough information to go on and what questions to ask. He got his first clue when he went to the tavern where there was many a dwarf. Much ale makes loose tongues, Dolenbor had discovered many years ago. Before he had even found a place to sit, a drunken patron called out to him.

"Tall one!" he was the tallest in the room, "aren't all your kind supposed to be farther up north this time of year?" the drunk laughed and slapped his companion on the back.

Dolenbor smiled, "and just what is my kind?"

"The rangers, of course."

"My people are called rangers?"

"No offense, sir, but you have not been offended by the name before and begging your pardon, sir, but aren't you new around here?"

Dolenbor smiled some more and ordered an ale, "It seems I have gotten a little lost."

"Pah! A ranger! Lost!" the room burst into laughter and it was sometime before Dolenbor could ask where he might find his companions.

"Like we know! And we couldn't care less! But I hear they like to hang around the Shire and Bree a lot. Northeast of here that'll be."

One of the dwarves chimed in, "Follow the river till you get to the road. Follow it east and turn left at the fork in the road. Follow it and you shall come to Bree."

Dolenbor thanked them and drained his mug. He bought some more food before setting out for Bree. He pondered over the rangers. He now had something to go on but they all may be like Thorongil and not give any information at all. In fact, he thought that very likely. That is of course if Thorongil is one of these 'Rangers'.

About a fortnight later, Dolenbor entered into Bree. There he saw more legends come to life. He saw only a few dwarves, what had his attention this time were the Halflings. Like children they were at first glance. People glared at him as he walked pass, halflings and humans alike. The sun was beginning to set as he came to the Prancing Pony. A cozy and welcoming place it seemed. He could use a good meal after his long travel, a bath and a good night's sleep would not be turned down either. Inside the common room was warm and full of smoke and laughter.

"I'll be with you in a minute!" A portly man cried from across the room. He put some drinks and plates of stew on a table before coming over. "Now what can I get-ah! a ranger of course. You shall want your usual table of course. Shall you be wanting a room as well? Splendid, splendid. I do not believe I have seen you here before. Of course, it'll be five coppers a night or thirty-two for a week, quite a deal too. An extra two coppers a night if you want meals included with that."

Dolenbor paid for three nights (meals included) and was seated at the "usual" table. A plate of stew and a mug of their finest was set before him. He listened to the talk but he kept to himself. The people ignored him and not one mentioned anything about Rangers. Dolenbor did not see any either, nor did he the second night, nor the third. Reluctantly he paid for another night. If he did not find any Rangers this night, he would try this Shire place that man had mentioned.

The night was deepening and business was slowing down when three tall hooded and cloaked men with stars on their breasts. "Sparrow, pay for the rooms and order us some supper. I just want some food and a bed." The tallest spoke to the shortest.

"Because I'm the shortest or because I'm the lowest rank?"

"Because he told you to, stupid," said the third who happened to be his older brother. Sparrow made a face and went to pay for the rooms. "Halbarad, I believe there is someone waiting for us," Thrush pointed out as he pushed back his hood and shook his wet hair. It had been raining as they came into the Pony. "He is staring at us and sitting in our spot, though I do not recognize him. He's not one of us."

"No. he isn't," answered Halbarad sternly. Their 'spot' was a quiet table in a shadowy corner. It was a perfect place to listen and observe all the goings on inside Bree and to have a private conversation if needed. They waded through the tables and remaining patrons. "How may we help you, stranger?" Halbarad asked as they sat down.

"I am looking for an old friend of mine. I heard he was with the Rangers and since I was in the area, I decided I'd stop and see him," The stranger smiled innocently at the two Rangers. Halbarad observed the stranger's speech was not from the north, so he figured the man must be from Gondor, which made the possibility that he was friends with the Rangers was highly unlikely.

"What is this friend's name?" he asked cautiously.

"I do not know what name he goes by now," Dolenbor scratched his chin, he remembered Denethor mentioning something about an uncle and the name Estel. "But when I knew him, he went by Estel. He was living with his uncle at the time I believe."

"Yes, I lived with my uncle once, but you are no friend of mine," Halbarad stood up from the table. Sparrow returned from paying for their room and board. "Come we are leaving."

"What?! Hal, I just paid for the rooms and the-"

"Come."

"Stop your chirping and come on," whispered his brother, "I'll explain later." Someone called for Thrush to sing them a song but the request was ignored as they left the Inn. The companions were silent as they left the village of Bree. Dolenbor followed behind them at a comfortable distance. He had to know more. The rangers apparently knew whom he was seeking information about and were likely to talk about it when they got to a safe place, and Dolenbor would be there to listen in. Or maybe not. They came to the east gate, which was closed. The gatekeeper's light was off in the gatehouse, but this did not bother the Rangers. They simply climbed over the wall with great ease, as if it were the natural thing to do. He walked up to the wall and wondered how they jumped so high, there was nothing to use as a step that he could see.

Finally, he spotted a barrel next to the guardhouse. With great effort, he pulled himself up over the wall, almost losing his grip on the wet wood as he lowered himself down the other side. All the time muttering to himself about how he wasn't cut out for this line of work. He was just a simple man who wanted to find what Denethor was looking for and get back home where he belonged. Denethor hired him because he would not be missed from the ranks. Spying was not for him. In fact, he was a bit of a coward. He had only joined the army because his father wanted him to. He wanted to become a florist. Open up a shop in Minas Tirith perhaps, with all kinds of flowers: roses, daisies, etc. Maybe he could have a greenhouse and raise some exotic flowers from the North and far south.

Letting go of the wall, he allowed himself to fall the rest of the way and landed on his hindquarters. Getting up and trying to brush some of the mud off, he looked around for the Rangers only to see them disappear into the darkness.

oOo

"Someone from Gondor was looking for Aragorn?" exclaimed Sparrow. They made camp in the forests off Bree. Thrush had just finished telling his brother about the Gondorian.

"Hold your tongue Linaewë!" hissed Halbarad, "Stars above! You don't go shouting names all over the hills!" He threw his hands in the air, "And to think you are not only older than me but you've been a Ranger longer than I."

"How many times have I asked you not to call me that?"

Thrush laughed, "You deserved it."

"Consider it a punishment," replied Halbarad.

Thrush stopped laughing as he thought of something. "Hal, you told that Gondorian that you were Estel."

"He was fishing for information. I wanted to throw him off the scent."

"Why would a Gondorian be looking for Estel and how does he know that name?" asked Sparrow. "You don't think he is from…"

"No, I do not think so, but we should still be cautious. I think," said Halbarad slowly, "that the reason he knew that name is because Estel must be Gondor. In that case, my attempt to mislead him was for naught."

"You don't think he is going to, you know," proposed Thrush, "with the thing we can't talk about."

Halbarad shook his head, "I honestly do not know. He will do what he thinks is best." Silence fell upon the three. The fire crackled and sputtered. The rangers drifted off into light sleep.

Dolenbor snuck up to the camp. After stumbling around in the dark he saw their fire in the distance. He came up behind a tree and peered around it. The fire was there, but nothing else. Something was not right. He started to back away but then he felt the touch of cold steel. "I warned you." Came a hiss in his ear.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait," flustered Dolenbor, "Here me out first please." The blade pressed a little harder against his skin. "Please."

"All right, speak." The three rangers sat near the fire eyeing their prey now tied a tree.

"Is all this necessary?" asked Dolenbor whilst tugging on his bonds.

Thrush pulled out a knife and fingered it, "We could kill you now and not ask any questions."

"Right, my name is Dolenbor, I am from Gondor. The Lord Denethor sent me to inquire about Captain Thorongil. He told me he lived with his uncle and went by Estel. I don't know how he got the information, but that's all he wants, I swear. He wants information about him."

"Why?"

"Not a lot is known about Thorongil and Thorongil is not exactly forthcoming about his past."

"How much does the steward's son know?"

"I don't know, but not much more than what he told me, I reckon, but it's hard to say."

"Can we kill him now?" asked Thrush.

Dolenbor paled and gulped, "Can't we just forget the whole thing? You untie me and I'll go back to Gondor and tell Denethor I didn't find anything." He searched the rangers' faces for signs of hope but was met with grim faces, except for Thrush who was sharpening his knife and testing the sharpness. Thrush looked at Dolenbor and smiled deviously before throwing the knife and sticking it into the tree a hairsbreadth from his head. He glanced at the knife from the corner of his eye, panting in fear before his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he slumped over.

Sparrow stood up, "Great, look what you did, brother. You gave him a heart attack and killed him by scaring him to death."

"He's just fainted you idiot."

"Oh."

Halbarad examined the man and searched him to see if he could make out his story. He did not find much to go on. Dolenbor took very little with him on his person and his bag was back at the Prancing Pony. "What should we do with him?" asked Thrush. Halbarad sat back on his heels and thought. _What would their chieftain do?_

"If he is working for Denethor, it would not be right to kill him. Even to prevent him from relaying anything he finds to his master, however, we can't exactly let him go either, a most puzzling situation," he sighed. "I wish he were here." Halbarad laughed, "Though, of course, if he were here, we wouldn't be in this mess." They could not very take him back to Dírhael. On the off chance that their prisoner escaped, he could tell Denethor where to find the lot of them. Besides, the Dúnedain did not have anywhere to keep prisoners. There was only one other place to go and may prove to do more harm than good, but he had no other options.

_*Will Halbarad order the death of a man from Gondor? Will Dolenbor find out who Thorongil is and return to Gondor? Will he ever open his flower shop? Tune in next time to Chapter 4: A Dream!_


	4. Chapter IV: A Dream

Chapter IV: A Dream

"Where are you taking me?" He asked again. A rope bound about his wrists was leading Dolenbor, the other end was being held by one of his captors, the shortest one. His captors had woken him at dawn and rarely said anything except a brief word here and there on their journey. He asked the question every morning they set off, though sometimes they continued all night and all the next day until Dolenbor thought his feet would fall off. By this time, he was not expecting an answer.

"To decide your fate," was Halbarad's answer.

"I never wanted to do this you know," Dolenbor stumbled over a rock. "In fact I didn't even want to be a soldier. My father, he wanted me to be a soldier. It was always his dream to serve Gondor's army but he has a bum leg and couldn't."

"Quiet," said Sparrow and he tugged on the rope.

"What do you want to do?" asked Halbarad.

"Excuse me?" said Dolenbor not thinking he had heard right. The tallest one, who seemed to be the leader, had spoken the least. Never a full sentence and never directed at him.

"I asked you what you wanted to do."

"I always wanted to open a flower shop."

"So why don't you?"

"Being in Gondor's army, I don't exactly have the time for it."

"What about when you are old enough to retire?"

"I had not thought about that, but then I'll be too old to enjoy it."

"I think not. You are never too old to achieve your dreams," said Halbarad and then he said no more until they came to a shallow part of a river with a steep bank on one side. He led the way as they waded across. His heart lightened and became weighed down all at once as soon as he stepped foot on the opposite shore. He had only been here once before and already memories were rushing back to him of that time which seemed so long ago now. Like a dream, it now seemed, but he knew in his heart that the reasons for his visit had been anything but a dream. He still shuddered at the thought of almost losing not only himself but his cousin as well. He had healed their hurts as much as they could, but he was no healer. The place they had been making to was so far off it was quicker to go back and make for Rivendell, though it meant going back over the mountains and they had little to no food. But they made it, he had almost lost his chieftain once in Moria, he was not going to lose him again. He never forgot the look on Master Elrond's face when he saw his son hanging limply against Halbarad who was barely conscious himself. Nor did he forget the frenzies of the elf lord as he quickly mixed an antidote for the beastly stuff Aragorn had been forced to drink.

But he had lost him again. As they recovered, Gandalf came and Aragorn met him for the first time. Aragorn spent much of the rest of their time in Rivendell alone with the wizard. Halbarad wondered what they talked about but Aragorn would not tell him, and when the next year came, he was gone and so was Gandalf without a word. Their leader had just come back into the lives of his people and was gone again. Not even Elrond seemed to know where he had gone to. An unsettling quiet also seemed to have descended upon Elrond. When Aragorn and he were in the same room, after the danger had passed, there was an air of unspoken tension between them, which puzzled Halbarad, for he knew how close they were. What could have happened that would cause such love to be strained? They often looked at each other with a strange detachment. It seemed as if Aragorn wished to say something but could not. Elrond looked at him sadly back at him and when he thought none were looking, like he wanted to hold him in his arms and tell him everything would be all right. At least they still cared for one another. It pained Halbarad to see his cousin out of sorts with the only father he knew. His own father had tried to kill not only himself but Aragorn as well. He often wondered if Aragorn left because of this unknown strife. He asked Aragorn once what it was, but all he got was silence. Halbarad sorely missed Aragorn. His people were beginning to fall apart. Tensions ran high, people were losing hope, and all the while, the darkness seemed to deepen, ever threatening to swallow them up and be forgotten forever. They already were a legend, the only thing to remain was to be forgotten and it seemed many people had already forgotten.

It was very early in the morning and the grey light was just coming up when they reached the bottom of the valley and came to the steps of the entrance to the House. No one was about that they could see or hear. Halbarad lifted his hand to knock on the double doors when one was unlocked and pulled back. The silver haired elf clad in purple robes was surprised to find four humans on the doorstep if the house of Elrond so early in the morning. "Oh, it's you," he frowned at Halbarad not sounding happy in the slightest, yet he swept his eyes over the ranger and said, "At least you are not half dead this time around."

"An elf!" exclaimed Dolenbor. For the third time since he started his mission, he had laid eyes on something he deemed only legend, though he knew they once existed.

The elf opened the other door, "A pet?" he jeered at seeing one of the humans bound.

"A spy," answered Halbarad. "I see you are just as gloomy as ever Celebfán."

"And you are just as smelly."

"Celebfán, where are your manners? Show some hospitality to our guests," another elf gently chided. He was clad in deep burgundy robes with a circlet of silver set upon his head. Lordly he looked and indeed he was Elrond, the Lord of Rivendell.

"My apologies, _hir nin_. I was just thinking of them tracking mud over the floors after just cleaning it."

"Then I suppose you shall just have to clean it again."

Dolenbor had little time to wonder at the elves before he was led to a small room with a high window too small for a human to fit through, though perhaps an elf might be able to. He was released from his bonds and left in the room alone, a guard stood outside the door. It was perhaps the queerest and yet nicest place he could think to hold a prisoner. He thought it looked more like a small bedroom than a prison cell and it was, for Rivendell had no prison cells. However, one could not leave or enter Imladris without it being known. He sat down on the bed that was against the wall and put his head in his hand wondering what was to become of him. He stood up when the door opened. A young female elf with dark hair entered carrying a tray of warm bread and fruit, along with a bowl of sweet smelling porridge and a cup of fresh spring water. She looked to be about the same age as his own daughter, who was now passed, but it was hard to tell with the ageless elves.

"Will you be wanting to wash when you have broken your fast?" she asked. He nodded and she left the room to fetch something for him to wear and a towel or two. Meanwhile, Halbarad and the master of the house were engaged in deep conversation in a place where they could talk without worrying about being overheard. His companions had been given leave to get some food and rest and to bathe.

"Have you heard any word from Aragorn?" asked Halbarad tentatively after long discussion about the events in Bree, though they had not yet discussed what to do about Dolenbor. Elrond shook his head.

"I have not heard anything either from Gandalf. Aragorn is a grown man and can do as he wishes as I told you in the letter I sent you," was Elrond's answer with a hint of frost that was not lost on Halbarad who scowled and plucked up the courage to ask him the questions that were gnawing at him, even if it meant being impertinent and possibly arousing the elf lord's anger.

"Do you know why he left?"

"I have suspicions, but I will not know until I see him again."

"Will you not care to share them with me?" asked Halbarad. He was growing impatient with this guessing game.

Elrond turned his back to him and said, "They are merely suspicions and have nothing to do with you, he will return when he is ready."

"They have everything to do with me!" he shouted and banged his fist on Elrond's desk. "He's not only my cousin but he's my chieftain! I have a right to know why he has abandoned us. Something has happened between you two that has changed the both of you, though you pretend like nothing happened."

Elrond leaned over the desk till his face was inches from Halbarad's and he saw pain and sorrow in Elrond's eyes. "That is not something for you to hear," he said softly, "and that is not the reason I suspect, though it may be in part." He walked to the door that opened onto a small veranda and gazed out. The door to his study opened and shut and he knew Halbarad had left. "I miss him too," he whispered and then he wept.

Halbarad left without leave, but he cared not. He was thinking of going himself to Gondor, asking Aragorn exactly what in Arda was going on, and why he was in Gondor, if that was indeed where he was, when he saw Gilraen walking down the hall towards him. She gave a start, but calmly collected herself when she realized who it was.

"I thought for a moment…" she trailed off. Halbarad's ire died as he hugged his father's cousin.

"I know, but I have reason to believe he is alive and in Gondor."

"Thank goodness," she pressed her face into his chest.

_A murky darkness surrounded him. He could not breathe. Something heavy was bearing down on his lungs. As he tried to take a mouthful of air, water rushed in. He was drowning. Red light flickered above the surface of the water. He struggled to free himself from the timbers that were holding him under. His lungs ached for some air, if he could just- Suddenly he was above the water looking down into it. Ships were burning around him as he caught his breath and then lost it. He saw his chieftain pinned under some wreckage and reaching out to him. Halbarad plunged into the water and began swimming down towards Aragorn. He stretched his arm out to Aragorn but the more he tried to save him, the further and further away he got. Aragorn looked at him sadly and stopped struggling to free himself. He had given up. Halbarad cried out to him. He saw his mother and siblings being slaughtered by orcs. His kin slaughtered. They did not even fight back, the despair in their faces haunted him, the screams of the villagers of Bree were taken over by the horrors the Dúnedain had once protected them from. The Shire became a desolate place full of evil things. An evil king robed in black sat upon the throne of Gondor and enslaved the people. A twisted, vile creature bearing the sign of the Eye. A mere puppet with Sauron pulling the strings. Sauron was risen to power and had taken a new form. He bred orcs by the hundreds and many other vile things. _

Halbarad shot up covered in a cold sweat and shuddered. He had had the same dream several nights ago, only this time it was worse. He got out of the bed, his night clothes stuck to him. Not even bothering to put on a robe, he left his room and slipped down the hall to the room where Dolenbor was being held. "I need to speak with the prisoner alone," he spoke to the guard who unlocked the door and waited down the hall at a respectful distance. "Wake up," he shook Dolenbor.

Dolenbor sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, "Have you decided what to do with me?" he asked blearily.

"Shut up and listen!" whispered Halbarad, keeping his mouth close to the Gondorian's ear. "I need you to do something for me for I cannot go myself. You are going to go back to Gondor and find Thorongil. You are to give him this letter, understand? Say what you will to your master, but make sure that letter gets to its intended."

"Thank you for your mercy."

"Think of it as an opportunity to redeem yourself."

"If it's alright with you, I'll return once I deliver this letter. My family is dead, there is nothing to keep me in Gondor and I know Denethor will be displeased with my failure. There's no telling what he may do to me."

"Do as you will. Just get that letter to my cousin at once." Once Dolenbor was dressed, the two darted out the door and down the hall towards the nearest exit. "Halt!" the guard pursuing them cried. The humans made it to the door and had gone out it. The elf swore and was about to call for help, when a gentle voice came from behind him.

"Let them be, Tathar."

"Hir nin, they prisoner is escaping and Halbarad is helping him!"

Lord Elrond went to the door and closed it gently. "I know. It is for the best."

Once Dolenbor was safely on his way back to Gondor, Halbarad returned to Imladris. Once over the borders, he saw that Tathar was waiting for him. He never saw this elf in such a sour mood before. "Careful, ere you turn me into cheese," he said trying to elicit a smile from him. Tathar merely held out Halbarad's cloak and boots. In his haste, he had forgotten to put on shoes. "Lord Elrond wants to see you."

The door of Elrond's study stood open, but no one was there. He found him sitting beside Aragorn's bed, a lone candle sat on the little table next to him. "There are things in this world that can turn your life upside down. What happened between us, we have already discussed with each other. Though not altogether resolved as you can see, and it may never be, but we are working through it. As to his leaving, you would have to ask Aragorn that or Gandalf, wherever he may be, but do not expect a straight answer from him if you find him. Several years ago, I heard Ecthelion was looking for men of worth to enter his service. That was shortly after Aragorn disappeared. I believe he left to help at Gandalf's bidding to lend aid to Ecthelion and perhaps to clear his head. What happened between us shall stay between us, unless he wishes to discuss it with you, but you are not to pressure him." Halbarad nodded and he apologized for losing his temper. "Not completely unwarranted I'll admit. I have not been forthcoming of late for reasons of my own I hope you understand."

"About Dolenbor-"

"He will do whatever you set him about to do, I am sure."

"I had a dream. This is the second time I have had it. There may be nothing to it, but I want to make sure it doesn't."

"And yet one often meets the fate he wishes to avoid by trying to prevent it."

*I am of course referencing not only "Lost Hope" but "Darkness of Moria" as well as Aragorn falling in love with Arwen, which undoubtedly caused some tension between Aragorn and Elrond. There have been many cameos in this story by some of my OC's from "Lost Hope".

Hypothetical Question:(your answeres will help determine next chapter) If Aragorn were to take the throne while under guise of Thorongil or a few years later (say shortly after the death of Ecthelion)..Would Denethor step aside OR would hestand against him?


	5. Chapter V: Cat and Mouse

Chapter V: Cat and Mouse

Part I: I Know

_~2979 TA Minas Tirith~_

Aragorn was playing with the child that sat upon Finduilas' lap. His name was Boromir and had been born the previous winter. He sensed a great warrior in the tiny hand that gripped his finger. He softly sang a lullaby Elrond used to sing to him when he was little. Boromir looked much like Denethor in face. Now that Finduilas was married, he kept his visits to her down to a minimum and always made sure someone else was there when he called. Nevertheless, the rumors still circulated. His thoughts strayed to Arwen and he wondered if he were to be blessed with little ones of his own. "Thorongil? Thorongil?" he became aware that Ecthelion was calling to him. "Are you well, Thorongil? You look pale. In fact, you always seem to be tired lately. Perhaps you should see the healers."

"I am fine, my Lord. I have not been sleeping well lately."

"Is there any trouble? Can I help in some way?"

Thorongil shook his head. "I just need a good night's sleep." Or so he believed. He had tried some sleeping draughts, but they only helped for a short while and he would wake in the night certain he had heard the voice of Halbarad calling him. Some nights it was Elrond and on rare occasions, Arwen. He never could make much sense of it and therefore dismissed it as his imagination. Finduilas remarked on the song he had been singing. He smiled and began another verse of the lullaby when a messenger boy called to him and handed a sealed envelope to him. It was plain and unmarked. _It had better be from that confounded wizard, _he thought to himself. But it was not. The paper was from Rivendell but it was neither from Elrond nor his mother. The letter was rather cryptic and hard to read. It had obviously been written haste and the ink was smeared in several places with some serious misspellings.

_Cous-_

_I had a dreem…_something about water and drowning…_Mordor's shado is deapining I fear. _

_It may only be a __dreem__ dream but…be cashus. Don't give up hope._

_Denth cent spy to…apreehanded him. All is well, but we nede you. I hope you ar well. Pleec kom home soon._

_~Hal_

_P.S.: Stay away frum __watre__ water. Don not even take bath._

_Love, Hal_

He raised an eyebrow as he tried to make sense of the thing. Frankly, he did not even know Halbarad could even write.

Denethor looked down on the trio sitting by the fountain from a window of the Citadel. He too had noticed Thorongil's lack of sleep and it was beginning to show in his work. He had been wounded in a recent battle with some Haradrim on the borders of Gondor not too long ago. Not once had he ever seen Thorongil injured so. He got the odd knick and scrape here and there, but nothing serious. He never even seemed to get a sniffle. Not even when there was an outbreak of the flu a few years ago. Dolenbor had not returned yet and Denethor began to wonder if he had run afoul some evil and was slain. He watched as a messenger brought a letter to Thorongil but he could not tell what it said. He watched as Thorongil excuse himself and stand off to the side as he read the letter. Thorongil never got letters, except the odd note from Mithrandir. Denethor walked to the nearest guard coming off duty and said that he wanted Dolenbor as soon as he was found.

A short time later, a man in haggard appearance was brought before him. "My Lord Denethor," he saluted with his hand upon his chest.

"Have you been back long?" Denethor asked casually.

"No, my Lord."

Denethor sat down and put one foot on a stool. "Hmm and what have you found out?"

"I found nothing, my Lord."

Denethor read his face carefully, "You are a poor liar Dolenbor, but I shall give you a chance to redeem yourself." Dolenbor trembled

"My Lord, truly I found nothing more about him personally. I know he is one of our northern kindred. They call are called Rangers by the people and are largely feared and even hated. Three of them I found in a village called Bree. It was far to the north. The tallest of the three at first lead me to believe that he was Thorongil by calling himself Estel, but it did not work since I knew that Thorongil is Estel. Later I found him out to be in fact Thorongil's cousin."

"The son of his uncle?"

"I know not. They caught me eavesdropping and made me their prisoner. Thorongil's cousin later took pity on me and let me go."

Denethor's eyes narrowed. He examined the man before him. He was tired and careworn. His clothes were disheveled and mussed and the clothes of a man from Gondor. They were of strange make. "Strange clothes you are wearing."

"They took me to a beautiful place with elves, though I saw naught but three or four of them the whole time I was there as I was confined to a small room."

"This, place…do you know what it was called?"

"No, but I heard the name 'Elrond' mentioned a time or two."

Denethor produced some coin and held it out to Dolenbor. "For your services, such as they were." Dolenbor just stood there looking at the floor. "What do you want if not coin?"

"I would like to return to the north, if it is alright with you, Lord." Denethor considered it.

He waved his hand and released him from his service, "Go, I release you." The man was a poor soldier anyway. The fool had revealed to him more than he could know. How he had convinced this cousin to release him, he did not care. He did care about the coincidence of a letter arriving the same morning Dolenbor returned to Gondor and he did not like it. He walked back over to the window and peered out. His eyes instantly met with those of Thorongil's whose face seemed none too happy. No, he did not like it one bit.

oOo

Aragorn was roused from sleep by a thumping sound. He decided to ignore it, so he rolled over and pulled the blanket up to his chin. The knocking got even louder and he heard a voice say, "Up you slugabed! You just missed a very important meeting with the Steward."

"Gandalf!" Aragorn sat up, "It is about time! Stop banging your stick on my bed and tell me what you have found!"

"As you wish, my liege," Gandalf gave a slight bow eliciting a glare from the ranger. "First of all, the Steward has decided to grant you your request to go after the Corsairs." The wizard sat down in a chair and pulled out his pipe. Aragorn watched him slowly fill his pipe, light it, and sit there puffing on it. Gandalf seemed to be in thought, or he was teasing the young chieftain, Aragorn could not tell, so he crossed his arms and sat back against the headboard and waited. Gandalf took the pipe from his mouth and looked at him with a gleam in his eye. "I see you have learned patience while I was away."

"You are mistaken. I learned this patience from having to help Erestor catalogue scrolls when he wasn't teaching me arithmetic."

"A bit touchy are we this morning?"

"I was having the best sleep I have had in over a month and here you come after years of absence like no time has passed and wake me up by banging on my bed with a stick."

"I feel I must offer my apologies."

"Accepted, now tell me about the Corsairs."

"It was not an easy task you beset me with."

"_I_ beset _you_?"

"It was not until late last year I began to hear rumors of black ships in the south and it was not until a few days ago that I found someone willing to offer testimony of their existence. Now we have our hands full. I could not help but notice the ships as I came in. However did you manage to pull that off?"

"I didn't. Denethor unexpectedly rallied to our side concerning their destruction a few weeks after you left. Speaking of Denethor, he has been sending spies to the north seeking information about me. I can't tell if he has found out anything."

"How did you discover he was sending spies?"

"Halbarad caught one and sent me a letter. Did you know he could write? Granted I had a tough time figuring it out, but I have to give him credit."

"Was that all he said?"

"Some paranoia about water, but he also had this dream about Mordor. I think it would be well to look into that business over there before I head for home."

"When will that be?"

"When I feel I can leave Gondor in peace for awhile."

The night before he was to depart for Umbar, Thorongil was invited to dine in the house of the Steward. The fare was cordial but Aragorn would not have called it a feast and he was reminded of the meals he had at home. He felt as if he could eat a whole barrel of collard greens in exchange for just one of Brethil's sticky buns. The memory of Glorfindel's face when he was told he had to eat them as well was made Thorongil smile. Often of late, he was reminded of his time in Rivendell and every time his longing for home worsened. Then he remembered the reason Rivendell could no longer be a home to him and he snapped out of his reverie. To his surprise, Adrahil and his wife were in attendance. He not met the mother of Finduilas before. He had been away at the time of the wedding and was not back in the White City until after the festivities were over and most people had gone back to their homes, including Adrahil's wife, Aeriel. The company at present talked about this and that. Aragorn did not input much on anything unless asked directly. Food was for eating and he did not care for it to be cold.

"Are you married, Thorongil?" asked Aeriel.

Thorongil put down his fork and after taking a sip of wine (not elven) and a use of his napkin, he answered: 'No, ma'am, I've not had the pleasure of marriage."

"What a shame," she declared, "Everyone ought to get married. You should marry, in fact, I know a couple of very eligible, very pretty young ladies that would turn even the most astute bachelor's eye."

"Thank you, but I am not looking to get married."

"For Eru's sake, why not?"

"I think it pointless to get married and then go off and die a short time later on the field of battle and in so doing, leaving behind a grieving young widow with nothing but a squalling babe whom she now has to take care of by herself."

"Do you bear so much contempt for the husband then for something that was not in his control? If he was going to defend his family…"

"On the contrary, I blame the creatures that killed him and the abominations that sent them to do it. Therefore, I have decided to fight the battle and protect his family so he won't have to and he can live a long peaceful life."

The meal was ended and everyone retired to the parlour. The ladies talked and the men played _yanta_, a game that is very much like our game of bridge today. After a few a few rounds of _yanta_, the ladies bid their farewells and retired for the night. Ecthelion asked Adrahil if he would assist him, for he decided a walk before bed would do him some good. Only Denethor and Thorongil were left in the room. Denethor went and stood by the window looking down into a small garden. Denethor's nose crinkled at the offending odor of the pipeweed. He turned to find the source of the smell to find that Thorongil had settled himself on a couch and puffing on the borrowed pipe in thought.

"Must you?" he asked in agitation.

Aragorn took the pipe out of his mouth and after a moment, shrugged and said, "I suppose not." He promptly extinguished the pipe and put it away. Denethor took a soft chair across a low table from Thorongil.

Denethor murmured, "Your father."

"Hmm?" Aragorn straightened.

"Oh, nothing, forget it."

"You said something about my father."

_Curse his sharp hearing._ "During dinner, you were talking about your father."

"I was speaking of every man who has and will be slain," Thorongil responded nonchalantly, but it was clear to Denethor he had struck a nerve.

"Come now, the tone of your voice when you answered Aeriel was plain enough, even if the others did not catch it, I did."

"So my father died in battle, what interest is that to you?"

"Nothing, really, though it sounded as if the attack was directed solely at your father. Who could he have angered so that someone would have ordered his death and what were these _monsters _I wonder? Orcs?"

"They are common in the north. They raid, pillage, and plunder every place they can. All you have to do is kill a few of them to turn their ire upon yourself."

"But you said someone sent them to do it."

"What are you getting at, Denethor? I know of your spies and it was only a matter of time before you convinced Finduilas to tell you what she knew."

"Very well," Denethor stood, "You may be able to fool my father with your lowly servant disguise, but I see through you. To be fair, you made it a little difficult." Aragorn was silent with his arms crossed. "When I become Steward, you are going to find yourself so busy, you won't have time to consort with wizards and have your private counsels with each other concerning my city. If you so much as glance at the throne with the intent in your eyes to take it, I will not give it up willingly."

"It is not yours to deny the right if proven true."

"Let's face it, father is old and it is only a matter of time before I am made steward of Gondor. Gondor has no use for its kings anymore they have served their purpose. The stewards have ruled for so long the people have forgotten what it is like to have a king, therefore many of the people will side with the one they expect to lead them when Ecthelion passes."

"I would not risk a civil war. Gondor would not survive."

"Nor would I…but nor would I see you sit on that throne and be my Lord."

"You can put your mind at ease, for I am leaving Gondor as soon as possible."

Denethor smiled smugly, "You swore an oath."

"I did, and by leaving Gondor I can fulfill that oath. Your father knew I was going to leave when I saw fit. I told him so from the beginning, though I know he hoped I might stay for the rest of my life, he granted me the right. After all, I am just a sell-sword. Good evening." Aragorn left the steward's son alone in the parlour.

*Aeriel not Ariel…Shame on you thinking I'm talking about that scantily clad redheaded fish woman. Aer= sea, iel= garlanded maiden. (assuming she was born and raised on the coast same as her daughter.)

oOo

Part II: Corsairs

A burst of lightning aroused Aragorn from his slumber followed by a light drizzle. He must have dozed off to the slow rocking of the ship. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he stood from where he had sat leaning against the railing and gazed out over the river. The sun was setting when he had slumbered off and now the stars were shining brightly in the sky. As he gazed out his eyes searched for Earendil, the star of his ancestor and of the elves, but find it he did not, nor any of the other stars he knew. He glanced around, searching for a single star whose name he knew from childhood. "Is there a problem, Thorongil?" The helmsman of the ship came and stood beside Thorongil.

"The stars are strange," he answered remorsefully.

The helmsman looked up, confused, but he shrugged it off. He had heard that the Captain Thorongil had a few oddities about him. Yet there was no one anyone trusted more than Thorongil, except perhaps Denethor. He clasped a hand on Thorongil's shoulder, "You should get some sleep."

Thorongil sighed and with one more mournful look at the sky went to bunk for the night. Tossing and turning, he could not go back to sleep. It was useless. He had to get up in a few hours anyway as they would be arriving at their destination soon. After pulling his bag close to him, he took his sword from his sheathe and made sure it was cleaned and sharpened. Then he emptied out his bag and reorganized it. His hand fell on the small leather medicinal pouch he had carried with him all these years. It was a gift from Lord Elrond when he had learned all the names and preparation of various herbs and remedies. It was artistically inscribed with the elvish letter "E". He once had thought it had stood for "Estel", but Elladan had told him it had once belonged to Elros. Elrond had presented it to his brother long before Aragorn's time, when Elros had decided to become the king of the Númenoreans. Elladan knew not how his father had come back into possession of it, but it was now returned to the rightful owner and heir. He placed it lovingly back into his bag wishing he was back in Rivendell with the old elf right now listening to his gentle voice tell him tales of old or speaking of things yet to come. He rose from his bunk. It was time.

Gliding silently upon the water the ships of Gondor came to Umbar. All was quiet on shore and naught but a few torches and braziers lit here and there. Aragorn climbed over the rail of his ship and boldly jumped to the corsair ship closest to theirs. His hands caught onto the molding of the stern and pulled himself high enough to look see the coast was clear. After pulling himself all the way on board, he tied the end of a rope that was around his waist securely to the stern so the others could cross over carefully. From a skin slung on his back, he poured a liquid called _mednaur_ by the elves. It would burn with great heat when fire was set to it and known to explode if not handled properly. The other ships he had brought with him were also soaking the enemy ships with _mednaur_. They would not light them until every ship was covered in it and everyone was back onboard their own ships. He had a cloth tied around the lower part of his face as it was dangerous to inhale the fumes. He emptied out a second skin then crouched near the gangplank to keep watch for patrols while others emptied skin after skin of _mednaur_. _Come on, come on, come on_. He waited impatiently. It was taking longer than he had estimated.

A light went up on his right. One of the other ships had been set afire. Cursing, he drew his sword from his sheath. The Corsairs were alerted to their presence now. "Go! Light the ships!"

"What about you captain?"

"That's an order!" The men dropped the skins of _mednaur _they were holding and headed for the rope. As the men crossed back over the water on the rope, Thorongil made his way down the gangplank. A thick, muscular man was making his way up the gangplank with a spiked cudgel. His face was tattooed and his head bald save a small portion on the back of his head that was braided. The captain of the haven very much hated men of Gondor. Therefore, he would relish killing this skinny one with his long legs and bright eyes. He swung his cudgel at Thorongil to hit him in the head. Thorongil raised his sword in time to block the blow and then hastily blocked another blow. The hastiness of his block caused one of the spikes to tear into his shoulder. All he could do was block as he was backed up towards the ship. Nearly back on the ship, it was set alight. It quickly caught fire and spread even quicker. Skins exploded when the flames reached them. One being near the mast was mostly full. The mast fell towards the two men fighting on the gangplank. Aragorn jumped off into the water below, pieces of wood fell into the water on either side of him. He broke surface and headed for shore. A hand grabbed him by the hair as he climbed onto the dock and dragged him the rest of the way.

"Gotcha, bright eyes!" laughed the man if Umbar. As the man made to strike him down with his cudgel, Aragorn head butted him, which he regretted for a moment. Though he had succeeded in forcing him to let go and also stunning him, he had momentarily stunned himself as well. _Note to self: head butting is for special occasions._ He shook it off and swung his sword at the captain who had also recovered. The light from the burning ships made it appear almost as daylight. As the two fought upon the quays, the men from Minas Tirith managed to set alight more of their ships and others helped fight off the enemy fighters that had come to defend their ships. Aragorn injured the man he fought who bent to the ground in pain. Aragorn took this moment to assess the battle. Many of the Corsair ships were sinking into the deep. He saw one of his men fall and ordered the retreat. He turned around in time to stick his sword into the captain of the haven who had risen and sought to try to kill the bright eyes once more. He fell to the ground dead and Aragorn made his way to the nearest ship. Their ships were turned about and retreated as fast as their ships could carry them towards Pelargir.

"All right, who's alive and who's dead?" he asked as soon as they were on their way. "Iorlas? Haldar? Alcarin? Each responded accordingly as he inquired of them. Only two did not answer, Berglos of Lossarnach and Mabrith from the northern lands of Gondor. No one was severely injured, just a few scratched here and there. Aragorn propped himself up against a barrel near the wheel.

"If anyone else had told me that this could have worked, I would have laughed at them. You boy, take the wheel," the helmsman called to one of his crew.

"I'm just glad it's over and done with."

"There will be some celebrating in Gondor over this victory to be sure. You are hurt," the helmsman saw the injury the cudgel had done to Thorongil's shoulder.

Aragorn dismissed it as being 'just a scratch.'

"If that's 'just a scratch' I'm a three-horned flying _thaur lossadan_. You go get that tended to, go on." The helmsman shooed the ranger away and Aragorn permitted himself to be shooed. It was not very deep, but should still be tended to. He went below deck to his bunk after finding some water he could use to cleanse the wound. Removing his tunic, he examined it closely at a small mirror that hung on the wall. It had stopped bleeding and as he had thought before, it was not so bad. He had seen far worse. Looking into the mirror, he looked at himself as if he had never done so before. Surprised and fitting, he noticed the level of sadness and sternness that had settled upon his features. He looked worn and frazzled. He was thinner too, his skin was pale, he was dirty, and he was, ugh, wet. _How do I always manage to end up wet when I am unable to change?_ He removed his medical bag from his pack and set to work dressing the wound. When that had been taken care of, he took off the rest of his wet things, hung them to dry, and wrapped himself in a blanket. Sitting upon his bunk, he decided to have a smoke before bed. He searched his bag and then his wet clothes. Under the bunk? No. _Where did I put it?_ He cast about the small room searching for it until he remembered it was in one of his pockets when he was fighting. It must have fallen out when he went into the water. He sighed and lay down on his bunk and went to sleep. He owed the wizard a new pipe.

Their arrival in Pelargir was met with cheers. There they rested for a short time. In the meantime, news of their victory had been sent to Minas Tirith and word that Ecthelion was going to hold a great feast and many other honors for Thorongil spread like wildfire. The day came for them to set sail once more for the white city. "Would you do a favor for me, helmsman?" Thorongil asked the helmsman.

"Anything, Captain."

"Take the boat to the other side of the river." The helmsman directed the boat to the other side. Once there, Aragorn let down a rope. "I need you to take a message for me to Ecthelion."

"You'll be seeing him in a few days, you can tell him then."

"No, I won't be." He gave the message to the helmsman and said goodbye to the crew and all that were aboard. Then he climbed down the rope to the shore. He adjusted his pack and headed eastward, not once looking back. The men looked on in wonder and grieved, for he was headed towards the land of shadow. They wondered what could have called him towards such perils. A few people thought he must have really been a spy from Mordor, but they were ignored and no one listened to them. Four years later the steward Ecthelion II dies and his son succeeds him. Three years after the departure of Thorongil, Finduilas gave birth to another son, whom she called Faramir. But it was only five years later when the fears of her handmaiden came true and she died young, much to the grief of her husband.

What Aragorn sought in the land of Shadow, he told none but Elrond. But it was rumored that Sauron had once again taken home there.


	6. Chapter VI: Late Meetings

Chapter VI: Late Meetings

_~2981 TA Eriador~_

"You did not claim the throne."

"The time was not right." The study was lit by a single candle set in a holder on the desk. "As much as the people liked me, Denethor did not and I would not risk civil strife. He is no fool. The last we met…the way he looked at me, the things he said…He knew who I was. The office of Steward will soon pass to him and it is hard to say what he would do. There has been a steward so long he and others think a king is not needed or perhaps the stewards should ascend the throne. They are, after all descendents of Elendil through Anarion. "

"When will the time be right?"

"As Denethor is older by only a few months and with Sauron still in power…"

"Meaning you may never accept the kingship."

"Accepting it is not the problem," the young chieftain leaned against the desk, "It is actually claiming it that may prove difficult."

"No one ever said it would be easy…alas for my daughter."

"Atar?"

"My son, years come when hope will fade, and beyond them little is clear to me. And now a shadow lies between us. Maybe, it has been appointed so, that by my loss the kingship of men may be restored. Therefore, though I love you, I say to you: Arwen Umdómiel shall not diminish her life's cause for less cause. She shall not be the bride of any Man less than the King of both Gondor and Arnor. To me then even our victory can bring only sorrow and parting- but to you hope of joy for awhile. Alas, my son! I fear that to Arwen the Doom of Men may seem hard at the ending."

"I am sorry, atar. I cannot go against my heart, but nor did I force my feelings upon her. I want you to understand that."

Elrond gazed into his foster son's eyes. There Aragorn saw great sorrow but he also saw understanding.

"It is late; you should take some rest, Aragorn," Elrond gently placed his hands on Aragorn's shoulders. Aragorn nodded and turned to leave. As he opened the door, he turned back.

"Ada, how-?"

"There are many great mysteries in this world, Aragorn, even I do not know them all, but the fact is I have means of finding out certain things and be satisfied with that."

Aragorn nodded once again and exited the room. It seemed so long ago and yet just yesterday all at the time since he last walked these halls. He wondered if Elladan and Elrohir were here or if they were out hunting orcs with his brethren. As much as he desired to fight by their side, he had had enough of war for the time being. His thoughts turned to his mother. He should look in on her and let her be aware of his presence, but she would most likely be sleeping and he did not want to wake her. He quietly opened the door and peeked into her room. A fire burned in the fireplace and she sat in a chair near the window by a few lit candles doing some needlework. "You shall hurt your eyes trying to sew in this light."

"Aragorn!" She started and dropped her sewing. He wrapped her in his arms in a loving embrace. "How long ago did you arrive? What time is it?"

"I have not been back long and it is very late. I thought you might be sleeping."

"No," she shook her head, "I could not sleep."

"I would have come earlier, but Elrond wanted see me and I wanted to see him as well. We had some things to discuss."

"Of course," she placed his hands in hers, "Where is Barahir," she gasped worriedly, "you did not lose it did you?"

"Peace, mother, it is safe. Of course, I did not wear it whilst I was in Gondor and Rohan. Someone may have recognized it. I kept it tucked out of sight on my person at all times."

"I am relieved. How were your travels?"

"I learned much, I saw many places, and I made a few friends, such as they were. After all, they did not really know _me_. On my way home I stopped in Lothlórien."

Gilraen frowned, "You saw the Lady Arwen there, I assume."

"I did, but let us not talk about such things tonight, mother. It is late and you should be sleeping, as should I." He kissed her on the forehead and left her room.

A none too happy Celebfán was woken to help him get bathed and ready for bed. Elrond was sitting in his room when he returned. Celebfán left after bidding them a fair night. "It occurred to me that I had forgotten something," the elf lord spoke, rising from the chair, "It should have been the first thing we addressed and I hope you shall forgive me for forgetting." He watched his young son ponder his words as he drew near.

"What could we have forgotten, adar?"

"This." Elrond smiled and pulled Aragorn into an embrace. "Now, as your physician you are hereby ordered to rest and not to be bothered by any meddlesome problems of this life for the next few days."

"Speaking of which," said Aragorn, heading for his bed and setting down upon it, "Are they here or out fighting orcs? Because if they are here, then I'm not going to get any rest, I'm afraid."

Elrond laughed and habitually tucked in the Dúnadan as he did when he was simply Estel. He patted his head and kissed his forehead then blew out the candle. Estel's hand caught his as he turned to leave and Estel gently called to him.

"Yes, _ion nin_?"

"_Nin lye linuva_?" Elrond smiled and resumed his chair by Estel's bed and began to sing.

After a much needed rest, Aragorn returned into the wilds. It was still some years before he was reunited in Bree with his cousin.

Halbarad had received word that he was to go to the inn and wait there for someone who could tell him more of what was happening with Aragorn. He felt a tap on his shoulder and found it was Aragorn himself that stood behind him. He looked his cousin up and down after a hug and assessed his health: a nice shade of paleness that came from rangering, proper weight of a ranger, hair not ridiculously long or braided, and nice coating of grime and dirt. And while he knew there still lingered a sadness in him that he could not cure, the depression had gone and Halbarad somehow knew that everything would be fine between Elrond and Aragorn. It _was_ none of his business. If Aragorn wanted to tell him, he would.

"I am afraid I am a bit overdue in telling you many things, my brother," said Aragorn.

"Then let us drink and you can tell all."

They walked to towards the Prancing Pony. Shops were closing and some people went home while others went to the pony. As they passed one shop, the shopkeeper, a middle-aged man looked up and smiling, waved at them. Halbarad did not notice but Aragorn offered a wave back to the man. Aragorn observed that the man was not a man of Bree, but he sold nice looking flowers and he silently wished the man good business and perhaps he could give some to the maiden who had stolen his heart some day.

_I Met_

*_Mednaur- fire water. _

_Ion nin_- my son

_Nin lye linuva_- will you sing for me.

I hope you enjoyed it and oh yeah, thaur lossadan- abominable snowman. For those of you hoping to see Aragorn in Lorien with Arwen, I didn't see the need for Tolkien wrote it so beautifully and whose hearts could he steal in Mordor? The lines that Elrond says regarding Arwen: My son, years come when hope will fade….I fear that to Arwen the Doom of Men may seem hard at the ending, were also written by Tolkien. I currently have no ideas for the next story, but I hope it won't be too long. Reviews please!


End file.
